


Recalibrating

by garilin



Series: 10-Word Prompt Fics [4]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Present Tense, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garilin/pseuds/garilin
Summary: Two days after David comes home, he wakes up alone.





	Recalibrating

Two days after he comes home, David wakes up alone. He’s rolling out of bed before the thought fully connects, phone in his hand, Frank’s—Pete’s—number halfway dialed, and then he sees the time. Eight forty-two, reported by the alarm clock in red.

He remembers last night’s conversation. They returned to their lives today.

David set the phone back on the nightstand with a shaking hand.  “Day one of the rest of our lives and I almost fucked it up all over again,” he mutters, mouth twisted into a harsh grin. Because Frank wouldn’t have picked up, and then he’d have called Madani, and then Homeland Security would’ve showed up at Sarah’s work and the kids’ school and it would _terrify_ them.

It would make it clear to them how terrified David is, still. How unprepared he feels for all of this, after wishing every moment of every day _for a year_ to be where he is now. The last thing he wants to do is trouble them. He has caused them enough grief for a lifetime.

For the next hour, David wanders the house. His house. It’s peculiar, being here alone. It’s peculiar, being here in person. It’s like he’s a visitor, an interloper. He wonders how long it will take before the oddness dissipates.

Zach’s and Leo’s rooms, he doesn’t enter. He opens the doors, hovers for a breath in the doorways, then closes the doors and moves on. Like he’s making sure that they’re there, unchanged. He hadn’t put cameras there; that would be too invasive. He also hadn’t told Sarah about the ones he _had_ placed around the house.

He would have to, eventually. There was too much he knew that he shouldn’t. David just wanted to wait until things had settled down.

The stairs trip him up. There’s one more step than there should be. The couch is wider than it should be, the coffee table longer and thinner. He gets stuck staring at their family photo where the dining room meets the kitchen. The him in the picture is less hairy, less gray. He wonders if Sarah would like it if he shaved and got a haircut. He’d have to ask her.

Sarah had left the newspaper on the kitchen table. He collapses in the chair in front of it. The job section jumps out at him. Is he expected to get one? Should he? The idea isn’t appealing. After…everything, he feels drained down to his bones. It was another thing he would have to ask Sarah about. She hadn’t worked, before, and it could be that she wants to go back to being a housewife. Or maybe they could both work. Or maybe Sarah will continue working and he will stay at home with the kids.

David thought coming home would be easier, simpler. He hadn’t expected it to be so complicated.

* * *

 

David tries watching TV. Everyone’s talking about refugees pouring out of the Middle East. He knows it’s not the same, but it makes him think of Frank. Knowing that bastard, he’s lurking somewhere not all that far from David’s living room. He wonders if Frank will ever get his happy ending. It’s like a harpoon to the heart.  

* * *

 

He sits outside on the curb. Feels the wind scrape against his cheeks. He hears his kids before he sees them—the moment they round that corner, they’re running and smiling and laughing and calling for _him_.

He makes the mistake of standing to greet them, but he’s laughing, too, before the pain’s had a chance to fade away. It’s hard with them piled up on top of him like this, but he can’t seem to let them go. The pavement is cold against his back, but he can’t seem to care, either.

Zach’s shoulders heave. Leo’s breath shakes. Someone sobs, and it might have been David.  

* * *

 

Sarah joins them at the playground later. They gather to greet her, and she hugs them close. She kisses Leo’s forehead and Zach’s ear—the boy’d tried to duck away from it—and lastly her husband’s lips. She catches his hand after the kids run back off, before he can go after them.

She looks up at him, her eyes wet but bright with something else. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she whispers.

“I know,” David says. “I’m proud of you, too. And them.”

**Author's Note:**

> Words: mouth, gray, hairy, chair, visitor, refugee, harpoon, pavement, playground, proud.


End file.
